


(717): he gets drunk and then tries to eat the lasers at the dance club

by angelsaves



Series: Cat-Bros [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I hear cats are suckers for Stanley Cup winners." In which Brad Marchand is secretly a werecat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(717): he gets drunk and then tries to eat the lasers at the dance club

**Author's Note:**

> based on the [texts from the nhl post](http://textsfromthenhl.tumblr.com/post/6938801828/submitted-by-gobstoppers) of the same name. [impertinence](http://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinence) kindly betaed.

When Brad stumbles out of the bathroom, scratching his new tattoo, he thinks at first that he's hearing things. There's a hissing noise coming from Segs' room. The radiator? No, that's stupid, it's fucking summer. He takes a step closer. Yeah, the noise is still there, and it's Tyler. "Pss pss pss... heeeere, kitty..."

Brad chokes on nothing. _Kitty?_ He knocks on the door. "You alive in there?"

Segs opens the door really fast, like he ran over to it. "Have you seen a cat?"

Oh, shit. "Like, ever? I've seen many cats in my day, bro."

"No, fuck you, a cat in our apartment! It was here last night." Segs crouches down by the closet, making that hissing noise again.

"How much tequila did you have last night?" Brad asks. He tiptoes, behind Tyler's back, over to the window. "Was the cat, like, talking to you?"

"I wasn't _that_ drunk," Segs protests, without taking his head out of the closet. "It was a real cat!"

Casually, Brad leans against the window frame. "Yeah, yeah," he says. He slides the window open a crack, then slams it shut. "Oh, hey, your window was open. I bet it got out that way."

Segs jumps up. "Well, open it again, then!" He kicks some pants out of the way and hauls the window open, sticking his head out. "Heeeeere, kitty!"

"Man, you really like this cat," Brad says. "What'd it look like?"

"Whatever, cats are great," Tyler says. "It's sort of stripey, you know, gray and brown, with a white splotch on its nose."

Of course. "Tabby," Brad says. "Cute."

"He's really friendly, too." Segs sounds kind of sad. "He kept rubbing his face on me and, like, licking my ear."

Brad feels hot all over suddenly. Crap, he should have put a shirt on, at least. Maybe Segs won't notice the blush going all down his chest. "You found a gay cat? Awesome," he says, then cringes mentally. God, that was a dumb thing to say.

"Hey, I'm open-minded," Segs says, giving the alley out the window a last once-over. "I don't care if my kittens grow up gay or straight as long as they catch mice and use the litter box."

Huh. Well then. "You have a litter box?" Brad asks lamely.

"Well, I'm gonna _get_ one," Tyler says, like this is obvious. He picks up a shirt off the floor and sniffs it. "Does this smell like beer?" He shoves it in Brad's face.

"I think the inside of my nose smells like beer," Brad says honestly.

Segs laughs. "Ha, Nose Face Drinkah!" He puts the shirt on anyway. "I'm gonna go get cat stuff," he says. "Text me if the cat comes back, okay, Marshy?"

"What if it doesn't?" Brad asks, carefully not watching Segs put on his shorts.

"He will," Segs says confidently. "He likes me!"

"Yeah, yeah, of course he does," Brad says. "I hear cats are suckers for Stanley Cup winners."

"Oh my god," Segs says. "Do you think he could eat cat food out of the Cup?" He looks way too pleased with the idea.

Brad can't deal with this. He rubs his eyes. "Probably. Get some catnip mice, too," he says. "I'm going back to bed."

"Good idea," Segs says. "Later, bro!"

Back in his room, Brad flops on his bed and contemplates smothering himself with the pillow. God _damn_ it, he thinks. The first rule of being a werecat is "Don't let anybody figure out you're a werecat." He hasn't technically broken that one yet, but the second is "Don't let anybody make you their pet," and the first rule of hockey for dudes who like other dudes is "Don't crush on your teammates."

Maybe they'll name it the Brad Marchand hat trick, he thinks, dropping his head over the edge of the bed so all the blood rushes to his brain. Have a giant thing for your teammate, snuggle him while you're a cat, and let him buy you catnip mice. There could be a Wikipedia page, like the Triple Gold Club or the list of players who are related to other players.

"God, I'm an idiot," he says out loud. Whatever. It's not like he can go back in time and _not_ get so drunk that being a cat so he can lick Segsy's ears is the greatest idea he's ever had. At least he managed to leave his room at some point. Waking up there human would have been hard to explain.

Brad decides to take a shower. Maybe it'll clear his head, and it'll definitely help with the "everything smells like beer" problem. He lets the water beat down on his back and thinks about maybe asking someone for advice. He's not sure who, though. If he wants to focus on the "whoops, my teammate thinks my cat form is his new pet" part, there are a couple of other hockey players he could call. Neuvy from the Caps and Geno from the Pens are werecats too, obviously, but even if he felt like Skyping Europe, how much English do those dudes speak? Patches, maybe, but he's probably still bitter about... well, everything. What could any of them tell him, anyway? "That was stupid," Brad imagines Pacioretty saying. "Be less of a dumbass." He can call himself an idiot at least as well as Patches can.

If he wants advice about the "um, apparently I'm really, really into my teammate" part, though, that's a different list, and if he wants advice about both the werecat and the kind-of-gay parts, then the list comes down to just his little sister Melissa. Which, no. For one thing, he'd have to sit there on the phone while she laughed at him for like an _hour_.

And Segs will be home soon, with a litter box and cat food and catnip mice. Fuck, catnip is great, Brad thinks, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Like a Jagerbomb, only better, because sometimes it comes with ear scratches. He turns off the water. How much worse could it get, really, if he hangs out with Segs as a cat for a while? He did it too drunk to remember already, and nothing bad happened.

Brad towels off and stares at his face in the mirror. "Just once," he promises himself. "I'll be a cat with Segs one more time, so I can remember it, and that'll be it." After that, he can tell Segs he saw a lost cat sign somewhere and returned it. That's the plan. He heads out to the living room, finds his phone under their shirts from last night, and texts Segs: _cat came back, i gave it some water. had 2 go out back l8r._ Then he turns the phone off and hides it in his room. It'd be bad if Segs could hear it ringing while Brad was, uh, "out."

The last thing to do is put a bowl of water on the kitchen floor, and then... "Cat time," Brad mutters. He squeezes his eyes shut and feels the change come over him. It doesn't hurt, which is proof he doesn't need that he was Ty's cat last night — when it's been a while, it hurts more, and until last night, it had been months.

Cat-Brad shakes his head a few times, then licks his paw and smooths his ears. Changing ruffles his fur, and that's not cool. From down here, the couch looks huge, like a bouncy castle. He judges the height, wiggling his butt, and jumps up onto the arm, then the back. Satisfied, Brad curls up and tucks his nose under his tail for a nap.

—-

The sound of the door opening wakes him up a while later. He sits up and twitches his tail. "There you are!" Segs says happily, dropping the bags by the couch and kneeling on it so Brad can sniff his hand and, when he decides he likes the smell, rub the side of his face on it.

"Aw, are you happy to see me too?" Segs coos, scratching behind Brad's ears. Oh, man, if that didn't feel so awesome, Brad would totally remember to make fun of him for that tone of voice. It does, though. God, it just figures that Segs is good with cats. He's making little nonsense sounds and petting him all over. Brad refuses to wonder if it would feel as good if he were human.

It probably wouldn't. Segs is probably awful in bed. He's really good at cat-petting, though, so Brad meows and crawls into his lap. Oh, that's nice. Warm. He butts his head into Segs' stomach, which starts vibrating as he laughs. "Ha, you know, Brad was joking about you being gay," Segs says, scratching under his chin. "Can cats even be gay? I've heard about gay penguins. Whatever." Segs lets out a huge sigh; Brad feels it ruffle his whiskers. "Anyway, it'd be dumb for me to judge a cat for being gay when I'm — I dunno, bi or something."

Wait, what? Brad looks up at Segs, then bonks his head into his abs again and purrs. "Thanks, cat," Segs says. "I'm glad you don't judge me either." He rubs Brad's ears. "I dunno if Marshy would. Like, everybody knows you're not supposed to be into your teammates. Even Avery would think it was stupid.”

 _What?_ This is getting weirder and weirder. Teammates? _Which_ teammates? Brad's not sure if he's glad he can hear this or not.

"Oh!" Segs says, scooping Brad off his lap and depositing him on the other couch cushion. "Jeez, I've been sitting here talking to you, and I forgot to set up your stuff!" He digs into the bags. "Let's see, I got you a litter box, I'll put that in the bathroom. And some kibble, bet you'd like that, right?" He scratches Brad's ears again. "Oh, and these were Marshy's idea!" Holy shit, it's a pair of catnip mice, and they fucking jingle. Brad meows and stretches out a paw to bat at them.

Segs laughs. Brad really likes that sound. "Oh, you want 'em, huh?" He pulls them away and jingles them. Brad gets up on his back legs so he can reach better. "Gonna have to try harder than that!" He dips the mice so they almost touch Brad's nose, then tosses them in two different directions.

 _Fuck!_ Brad looks both ways, then again. How is he supposed to decide which mouse to go after? This is goddamn Sophie's Choice here!

Now Segs is cracking up. "You're such a weird little cat, bro. You look like Marshy trying to decide which Sedin to punch!"

Whoops, that's a little close. Brad looks up at him with his most innocent face and makes a trilling sound.

"Oh, right, food," Segs says. He gets up, and Brad can't see his face clearly anymore, so he hops off the couch and follows him to the kitchen. Segs pours some kibble into one of their cereal bowls and sets it down next to the water bowl. "Here you go. Breakfast of champions, right?"

Definitely. Brad isn't, like, a professor of kibbleology or whatever, but this stuff smells pretty great. He sticks his face in the bowl and crunches several mouthfuls. Tastes great, too.

"Don't eat so fast you puke, cat-bro, I don't feel like cleaning it up," Segs says. He sits down next to the two bowls and stretches out his long legs. Brad looks up at him for a moment, then goes back to his kibble. Whatever. He's a grown-ass cat, he can eat as fast as he wants. And Segs isn't _that_ good-looking. His face doesn't give Brad a weird feeling in his stomach in either shape.

"I wonder when Marshy's coming back," Segs says, leaning back against the cabinet. Brad tries not to jump. "He likes cats, I guess. I mean, he knew the word for you was a tabby." He reaches out and scratches the M on Brad's forehead. Brad closes his eyes and leans into it. "I just said you were stripey."

Brad purrs and comes closer, done with the kibble for now. Segs is really good at facerubs, and it's been a long time since he's been able to get them from anybody but his mom or Melissa. "It's kind of hard living with him sometimes," Segs says, fingers going in slow circles between Brad's eyes. "Especially how, like, we keep being drunk and shirtless and stuff. And sometimes he sits in my lap and I'm just, like... you know?"

Segs laughs. "Whatever, no, you don't know, you're a cat. I think cats just fuck, they don't worry about, like, whether they'll still be friends with their teammates if they come on to them." He switches to rubbing Brad's chin. "Well, cats don't have hockey teams. That'd be funny, though. All, like, tiny skates on your paws... You could use a catnip mouse for the puck."

Oh my god, _mouse_! Brad skitters over to the corner where the blue mouse landed. The catnip smells fucking amazing. Brad rubs the side of his face against it. Aw, yeah. This is a great mouse. Segs should see how great it is. He picks it up in his teeth and prances back over to Tyler.

"Thanks, cat-bro," Segs says. He takes the mouse by the tail and swings it back and forth. "Awright, my feet are the goal, the mouse is the puck, and you are the greatest hockey player on four legs. Go!" He tosses the mouse, and Brad races after it. He doesn't think he could hold a stick in his mouth, but his front paws would work fine.

Brad catches up to the mouse in the corner again and bats it out with one paw, chases after it again, bats it the other direction, and finally between Segs' outstretched feet. "Goooal!" Segs yells. "Go cat-bro!" He leans forward to give Brad a celebratory head scratch. Brad purrs. He's pretty damn impressed with himself. Not that it would have been a hard shot if he were human right now — an unopposed empty netter? Hell, Kaberle couldn't screw that one up — but it was a pretty fun way of playing around like both a hockey player and a cat. He bonks his head harder into Segs' hand.

"Aw, c'mere," Segs says. Before Brad can react, Segs is scooping him up onto his chest for a hug. Oh. He must know cats, since it feels pretty great, not too light or too hard. Brad tucks his head under Tyler's stubbly chin and purrs. He really does smell good. Brad tries to commit it to memory, how it feels to have Segs' arms around him, so he can think about it later when he's human-shaped again. ...Yeah, and probably jerk off to it. Whatever, he's a werecat, not a _saint_. And the stuff Segs was saying before, about teammates... would he maybe not mind?

"Nap time," Segs says. "No sense getting off schedule, right? C'mon, you can hang out on my bed like last night. I'll leave the window open in case you have places to be." He stands up, still holding Brad, who reflexively hangs onto his shirt with his front claws. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna let you fall."

Too late, Brad thinks, and immediately wants to punch himself.

—-

Once Segs' breathing evens out, Brad wriggles out from under his arm, hops down off the bed, and makes a beeline for his own room. The second he's behind the door, he changes back into his human shape. What is even _happening?_ Segs likes the cat too much, and he likes how much Segs likes him as a cat too much, and everything is weird.

That reminds him — he digs his phone out of the pile of laundry and turns it back on. Five text messages. Three of them are from Segs, all excited that Brad found the cat; one is from Recchi, reminding him to drink water and take a B-complex vitamin; and the other one is from his sister Melissa. _stop having bad ideas,_ it says.

Brad winces, then texts back, _all my ideas are awsome_.

 _your tattoo is spelled wrong._

 _thats segs fault_. Actually, Brad has no idea whose fault that is. He was pretty drunk at the time. Cursive is hard, though. It's not like anybody's going to notice.

 _have you told him yet?_

 _that he spelled the tattoo wrong?_ Brad's pretty sure that isn't what Melissa means, but he's going to make her say it anyway. It's the principle of the thing.

 _that you have a crush on him the size of the moon?_

 _i do not!!_ As soon as he sends it, Brad realizes the second exclamation point is probably overkill.

 _yeah you do. it's ok, i'm pretty sure he's into you 2._

 _y do u care anyway?_

 _i'm bored, you're my brother, & you talk about him all the time_

 _untrue_

 _anyway you should hurry up & tell him before you do something weird. you're really bad at subtle when you're a cat. i gotta go i have cooler people to talk to._

 _u really dont but ill think abt it._ Brad throws the phone to the end of the bed like Melissa will feel it. Whatever, she doesn't know everything.

—-

That night at the club, Brad's already had a couple of drinks when the catnip mouse falls out of the pocket of Segs' shorts. That makes it easy to pick it up by the tail and toss it from hand to hand a few times before throwing it at him. "Hoping to find your stray cat in the bar?" he asks.

"Whatever, maybe on the way home," Segs says. Are his cheeks getting red, or is it the lights? "Or maybe the cat put it in my pocket." He tosses the mouse back at Brad, and it hits him right in the nose, making Segs laugh.

Brad laughs too. He got a good strong whiff of catnip. It doesn't usually affect him much when he's human, but right now it's making him feel all tingly, like his fur is standing on end. Not fur. Hair. Whatever. "Let's dance," he says.

"What?" But Segs is already getting up, pocketing the mouse, and heading for the dance floor. Brad appreciates that. The crush of bodies feels awesome — it's crowded enough that even people who don't recognize the two of them as Stanley Cup champions are pressing up against them, guys and girls alike, so Brad doesn't even have to pretend to feel weird about how close he is to Segs.

"Really close" is how close, like touching everywhere close. He can't even bring himself to mind that Segs can probably feel his boner against his ass, because he just smells so fucking good that Brad wants to rub his face against him. Which, hey, that sounds like a good idea, so he does it.

Segs makes a little sound, kind of like a groan, so Brad hooks his chin over his shoulder and yells "You okay?" into his ear.

"Oh, I'm good," he says. His voice sounds too high, so probably he's lying, but before Brad can formulate a thought about that, he gets distracted by how cool it feels to rub his stubbly cheek against Segsy's. That makes Segs jump, though. What, doesn't it feel good on his fur? No, not fur. Jesus, why is it so hard to remember he's human right now?

"Marshy —" Segs starts to say. Brad is _totally_ listening — and then _oh my god_ , why didn't anybody tell him there were lasers here? They're suddenly everywhere, lines of color on the ceiling and the walls and the people. Brad turns his head to follow a splotch of bright blue. It's on a blonde girl's face, then her arm, then — where'd it go?

"Marshy!" Brad could turn around to see what Segs wants, but that blue splotch would get away from him. "What the hell —"

"Ha!" He slaps his hand on top of the blue light, where it was trying to hide on the wall — but it jumps onto the back of his hand! Oh, no way. He starts to clap his other hand on top of it, but someone grabs his wrist. Just as he leans in to bite the blue splotch instead, Segs jerks him around by the wrist.

"Brad, the fuck is wrong with you?" The worried look in Segs' eyes brings Brad back to reality. Oh, balls. He is _definitely_ not a cat right now, and also, they're in public. He opens his mouth, hoping an idea will appear, and then Segs asks, "Did someone put something in your drink?"

I love him so much, Brad thinks. "Yes," he says firmly. "That is absolutely what happened."

"Let's get you home," Segs says. His mouth is pressed into a thin line.

Brad suddenly feels like a puck more than a cat, and about as inclined to argue with Segs' plans for him. "Okay," he says.

—-

When they get home, Brad takes a Nalgene full of water and two big bottles of Gatorade from Segs and promises he'll drink them and go right to sleep. It makes the flat line of his mouth curve a little, at least, so Brad's willing to go along with it. He sits on his bed in his boxers and gulps the water. Well, that was embarrassing, he thinks. I'll have to remember never to mix Jagerbombs and catnip again.

He switches from water to Gatorade, the weird pink flavor that barely tastes like anything, then thinks maybe he should share this discovery. Yeah, totally. He writes a text to Melissa, Patches, and Geno Malkin — now there's a group — saying _fyi: dont mix jagrbombs & catnip. bad plan._ Then he flops back onto the pillow. That was his good deed for the day.

Malkin responds almost immediately: _$_. Well, that's... enlightening. Brad considers texting him back for clarification, but decides it's too much effort.

 _if u hit deadspin i'll lol_ is Patches' response. Hmmph. See if I warn you next time, eyebrows, Brad thinks.

 _is there anything embarrassing you hadn't already done?_ Melissa texts back.

 _no1 appreciates me,_ he texts back to her. Well, that's not completely true. Segs appreciates him sometimes. Hmm... that gives him an idea. He decides not to mention it to Melissa. If he's sober enough to text, he'll totally remember things in the morning, right? Sounds legit.

Before he can think better of it, Brad changes into his cat shape and slips out of his room. The door to Tyler's is closed, though. Well, that's not cool. Cat-Brad pushes on it experimentally with a paw, then butts it with his head. Nothing. He meows indignantly and scratches the door.

"Hey, quiet down!" Segs yells. His voice sounds weird, sort of scratchy.

The hell? Brad wants to ask, but it comes out as "Mew?"

"Okay, okay!" Brad hears footsteps, and then Segs is opening the door a crack. Brad squeezes through and hops up onto the foot of the bed. Segs shuts the door after him and turns around, and suddenly Brad notices that he's hard. Like, super hard, wet spot forming on his boxer briefs hard, _I was just jerking off before I had to let the stupid cat in_ hard.

Whoops.

"You're not allowed to watch me jerk off," Segs tells him, dropping down onto the bed. "That'd be weird."

Brad obediently folds himself into a loaf with his paws over his eyes. Segs laughs. "Okay, no, you don't have to do that." He leans over to scratch the top of Brad's head, then lies back. "Whatever, you're — a cat. You’re a cat.”

And then there's the sound of skin on skin, and Segs letting out a deep breath that turns into a groan. Fuck. _Fuck_. Is this really happening? He's just going to go for it? Brad resists the urge to stare, because if Segs noticed he'd stop. Instead, he rolls onto his side and pretends to be deeply absorbed in licking between his toes. That way, he can catch glimpses.

God, I'm going straight to hell when I die, Brad thinks. He bites at one particularly stubborn claw sheath a little harder than necessary. He's so far gone on Segs, even further than he'd already guessed from, like, the whole "going cat-shaped for snuggles" thing.

Segs makes another little sound, and when Brad peeks over his paws, he's arching off the bed, his abs standing out in stark relief. Stop watching, stop _watching_ , Brad tells himself desperately, licking his paw and scrubbing at his ears, but now Segs is rubbing the heel of the hand not wrapped around his dick over the stubble on his jaw.

Jesus, is that because — but before Brad can finish the thought, Segs lets out a strangled noise and comes into his fist. Well then. Brad grabs his tail with one front paw to hold it still and starts washing it furiously, while Segs catches his breath and cleans himself up. That was... he's not even sure how to think of it. He feels part guilty, part horny, part hopeful, and all confused.

"Well, you don't seem bothered, so I guess I don't have to worry about him overhearing, eh?" Segs says. Brad isn't expecting the tummy scratch — he thought Segs was going for the chin — so he falls over on his side. Segs laughs. "Oh, yeah, you're so dignified!"

Brad puts his ears back grumpily. Whatever, he is too dignified, and anyway, he'd like to see how dignified Segs would look if _he_ had just watched his roommate jerk off. ...Oh, hey, there's an idea. He kind of _would_ like to see that.

Segs smooths the fur on top of Brad's head with his thumb. "Aww, just teasing, cat-bro." Then he yawns. "Yeah, okay, I'm suddenly exhausted. You gonna sleep in here?" He pats the pillow and sprawls out on his stomach.

Brad sits up and wrestles with himself for a moment. Flesh is weak, he thinks, and he curls up in the curve of Segs' neck and shoulder. He falls asleep purring.

—-

 _beep beep beep beep_ "Would you turn that off?"

Brad reaches over and slaps at all the buttons on Segs' alarm clock until the noise stops. Then he freezes. Oh my god, he thinks, I'm _human_.

"I'm not a fucking T-Rex," Segs says after a moment, poking Brad in the armpit. "You know I can still see you, right?"

"I, uh." Brad sits up and looks at Segs, who looks exactly as calm as Brad doesn't feel. "I, uh — what —"

"I figured it out," Segs says. He's leaning back against the pillows with his arms behind his head, with his stupid smile like — well. The only simile Brad's fuzzy brain can come up with is "like the cat who got the canary."

"Figured what out?" Jesus, now Brad is really, really aware of his lack of pants.

Segs laughs. "Dude, last night I shut the door _and_ the window. So where'd the cat go, eh?" Brad opens his mouth to argue, but Segs continues, "Also, cats can't play hockey. They don't understand the rules."

Brad can feel himself blushing. "Wait," he says. "Hockey? But that was... you knew _last night?_ "

"I guessed after the hockey thing, but I wasn't sure until I brought the mouse to the bar," Segs says. "Has that ever happened to you before? Because it's hilarious. Anyway, I've known about werecats since the Whalers. Neuvy ended up kind of an open secret after this one time —"

"So, wait," Brad says again. He's not sure he wants to know the answer, but he's got to ask. "Were you into... the _cat_ watching you jerk off?"

"I was into _you_ watching me jerk off," Segs says.

"Right answer," Brad tells him, and pounces on him, straddling his hips. Segs laughs again. He smells like sleep-sweat and catnip when Brad rubs their cheeks together.

"Are we gonna make out, or are you just rubbing your face on me?" Segs asks. His voice is doing that scratchy thing again, so what else can Brad do? He's only human.

Well. Mostly.

**Author's Note:**

> [this](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p9ySCe0_N0k/TRlbbnEv4KI/AAAAAAAAD6k/5Fd5ODzV_fY/s1600/DSC02264%2B%25282%2529-737351.JPG) is brad's cat form. [this](http://static.stomp.com.sg/site/servlet/linkableblob/stomp/202108/thumbnail/check_out_louie_the_cat_s_eyebrows-thumbnail) is pacioretty's.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(832): I feel like I'm in a development meeting for a Lifetime original movie. (The (214) Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569002) by [athenejen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenejen/pseuds/athenejen)




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